Sybil Lennard, by the author of 'The young prima donna'.

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Seite 83 - Oh that my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people...
Seite 69 - ... shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me — Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee Who knew thee too well : Long, long shall I rue thee Too deeply to tell. In secret we met: In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? — With silence and tears.
Seite 250 - Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray...
Seite 15 - God made the country, and man made the town. What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts, That can alone make sweet the bitter draught, That life holds out to all, should most abound And least be threatened in the fields and groves...
Seite 314 - They have been with me through the dreamy night — The blessed household voices, wont to fill My heart's clear depths with unalloy'd delight ! I hear them still, unchang'd : — though some from earth Are music parted, and the tones of mirth — Wild, silvery tones, that rang through days more bright ! Have died in others, — yet to me they come, Singing of boyhood back — the voices of my home ! II.
Seite 1 - They mourn, but smile at length; and, smiling, mourn: The tree will wither long before it fall ; The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn; The roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall In massy hoariness; the...
Seite 65 - Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world But those who slide along the grassy sod, And sting the luckless foot that presses them ? There are who in the path of social life Do bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun, And sting the soul — Ay, till its healthful frame Is chang'd to secret, fest'ring, sore disease, So deadly is the wound.
Seite 219 - ... well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay ! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But O for the touch of a...
Seite 81 - Well! thou art happy, and I feel That I should thus be happy too; For still my heart regards thy weal Warmly as it was wont to do. Thy husband's blest— and 'twill impart Some pangs to view his happier lot: But let them pass— Oh! how my heart Would hate him, if he loved thee not! When late I saw thy favourite child I thought my jealous heart would break; But when the unconscious infant smiled, I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.
Seite 88 - Fair shoulders, curling lip, and dauntless brow — Fit for the world's strife, not for poet's dreaming; .And proud the lifting of thy stately head, And the firm bearing of thy conscious tread.

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